Legacies by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

northeastern horizon. Light sparkled from the quartz outcroppings at the top of the plateau, more than six thousand yards straight up, outcroppings still highlighted by the rays of the sun that had already set in the valley. The scattered clouds were turning the sky into what his grandmother called sky-green-pink. “Sanders, you think?”
    â€œI don’t know. But he’s one of the steadier rams—and good outercoat. Hope it was something. Thought you might check him out.” Royalt smiled. “Seeing as you were the one who saved him, and he looks to you more than me as his herder.”
    Alucius returned the smile, knowing what his grandsire was thinking—that nightsheep shouldn’t be named, and that Lamb was an absurd name for a nightram with horns as sharp as iron razors who could hold his own against one or two sandwolves. But Alucius had been young, and the ram didn’t seem to mind, even after he’d grown up. “I’ll see what I can do. Oh…Mother says grandma’am will be fine—just a touch of flux.”
    â€œFlux isn’t good at any age.” Royalt looked at his grandson. “You didn’t…?”
    â€œNo, sir. She feels a little weak. It’s not the same, and I don’t know that it would do much good. It doesn’t have that same feeling, where everything is all in one spot.”
    â€œGood. That kind of Talent—it’s something best saved…” He looked up, almost embarrassed. “If you’d see to Lamb?”
    â€œI can do that.” Alucius reopened the shed door and slipped inside, sliding the inner bolt in place—although the outside flange would allow his grandfather to follow, if he so desired.
    Lamb was with the older rams, near one end of the group, and Alucius moved along the wall. Lamb eased away from the group, as if to acknowledge Alucius’s presence. Alucius moved forward and ran his fingers through the thick wool of the ram, scratching his neck, oblivious to the pointed and sharp-edged horns.
    â€œWas there something strange out there today?” While Lamb didn’t understand words, the ram did understand the idea of inquiry, and Alucius projected that. The red-eyed ram looked up, then tilted his head ever so slightly. Alucius could only catch a sense of unease, a memory or feeling of possible danger, but the feeling wasn’t specific.
    â€œThere was something, wasn’t there?” He scratched Lamb’s neck for a moment longer before easing away. Royalt had already stabled his mount and was waiting outside the shed. He looked to his grandson.
    â€œThere were sanders out there, I think,” Alucius told his grandfather. “I can’t be sure, but Lamb had the feelings that they get when sanders are nearby.”
    â€œAfraid of that. Think maybe you’d better come with me tomorrow. Might bring an extra rifle, too.” Royalt shook his head. “Need to go back and groom the bay. Tell your mother I’ll be up for supper in a moment. She didn’t say if her company happened to be staying?”
    Alucius shrugged.
    â€œI imagine so, but the women never tell us.” Royalt laughed. “Women are like nightsilk, smooth and warm, and they turn to steel under pressure.”
    Was Wendra like that? Alucius wondered.
    He checked the bolts on the shed door once more, then crossed the open ground toward the house. His mother was waiting on the porch. Beside her was a blonde girl, perhaps nine or ten.
    â€œAlucius, this is Clyara.” Lucenda nodded toward the girl. “Her mother and I need to go over some matters. I think she’d rather be out here.”
    Whether Clyara would or not, Alucius understood. “I’ll be here. Grandfather said he’d be up for supper after he grooms the bay.”
    â€œIt may be late.” Lucenda smiled. “Would you tell him if you see him before I do.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    With a